


Laundry Day

by ddelusionall



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, JYJ (Band)
Genre: Come as Lube, First Meetings, Laundry, M/M, Porn, Semi-Public Sex, i don't know your name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-12
Updated: 2011-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23928904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddelusionall/pseuds/ddelusionall
Summary: It's laundry day, and more than just the industruial sized dryers are making things hot.
Relationships: Jung Yunho (DBSK)/Kim Jaejoong
Kudos: 2





	Laundry Day

**Author's Note:**

> I am importing my stories from LiveJournal. The original fic can be found [here](https://be-ddelusionall.livejournal.com/).
> 
> I haven't read this story in a long time, so I may have missed some tags. Just let me know if I did.

I balance the laundry basket on my hip and lock my apartment door. I am only going to be gone for a few minutes, but better safe than sorry. I don't socialize much with my neighbors either. I mean, there is the old widow a few doors down that likes to make dokkbokki for everyone, and the couple at the end of the hall whose baby always cries. But I don't know their names.

I hit the button for the elevator and wait while the glowing numbers slowly count up until they hit seventeen and the door dings open. Thankfully, there is no one else in the elevator. I hit the basement button. I moved here because there is a laundry room on-site.

Some days the elevator seems to take forever.

I readjust the basket on my hip as the door slides open. The only thing I hatd about the laundry room is the vending machine full of chocolate and potato chips and things definitely not on my list of "keep in shape" foods. I usually cave and buy a candy bar on laundry day.

My eyes linger on the peanut butter M&Ms and then I have to look forward before I run into the a laundry basket. I barely clip it and drop my basket and mutter a curse.

"Are you all right? Here, let me help you."

I raise my head to tell the man I'm fine, but the words catch in my throat. I may have whimpered. God, he's gorgeous. Tan skin, sculpted small perfect face with gorgeous glittering eyes. Light brown hair, spiky, and oh god, muscled shoulders. Oh yeah, I whimpered.

He frowns. "Did you hurt your leg?" he asked reaching for my hip. I jerk away, because if he touches me I'm going to get an erection.

"No, just ... clumsy. I'm fine." I blush scarlet and hurry to gather up my spilled clothes. Oh god, there are boxers everywhere. Don't touch my underwear, please don't. The other man stands up and moves to the only chair in the room, leaving me to the task. I frown, and realize that yes, I had been rude.

I pick up the basket and turn to the washers. There is only one open and I curse again, upset with the man for being so handsome and stealing all the washers. I mean, seriously, there are only eight of them, and a lot of tenants. He's not the only one who lives here. I huff in annoyance, and move to the empty washer. I separate my clothes, doing a load of darks first, jeans, t-shirts, boxers. I have at least two loads, probably three.

I'm glad I locked my door, because I am not leaving my laundry here unsupervised. My clothes are my babies.

I fill the machine with quarters, add soap and press start.

Gorgeous Man is in the only chair. I sigh again and lift myself onto the counter and lean against the sign that says, "Please do not sit on the counter."

The washer next to the one I used beeps, and the gorgeous man stands up. He rolls the basket next to it and I watch as he unloads a pile of wet whites: socks, tank tops, t-shirts. He rolls it to the dryers and starts one with the clothes, and then he goes back to the washer.

There is a basket of clothes on top of the washer, and he throws dark clothes into it.

But ... how many clothes did this man have?

He must feel me staring, because he looks at me and smiles. "What?"

I shrug, because ... "At least you left one dryer free." Word vomit. God, I'm an idiot.

He doesn't take offense though, and smiles wider. "They were all taken when I got here. Some old lady is washing everything."

I make a face. "The woman from five G, I bet."

"I had to claim these two while she was here, and she was not happy about it."

"But ..." I gestured to the one that had my clothes in it.

"It'd be rude to take the last one, and I don't mind. It's laundry day. Nothing else to do."

My heart flutters from his sincerety. Chivalrous, kind, good looking. I wonder if he's rich, too.

"Are you new in the building?" I ask him.

He nods. "I moved in last week. I'm on sixteen."

"I'm on seventeen."

He smiles like this has given us some sort of connection, but it is definitely not the connection I want right now.

All of the other washers beep one after another, signaling their completion.

"Hey, there's some extra room in here if you want to throw in a few things," he says, gesturing to the half full washer.

My eyebrow raise again. What is up with this man? And why isn't he naked yet?

I jump off the counter and see that he's washing random things, colorful t-shirts and socks and ... boxers. I blush, but mutter a thanks and toss in some of my own t-shirts. That's good, then I'll only have to do one more load. I give him half the cost of the washer; he tries to refuse it and then smiles at my glare.

"Fine," he says with a laugh and uses my quarters.

I take up my place on the counter again and pull out my iPhone so I don't have to look at him. He sighs, and I don't look up even though I want to. I hear him resettle in the chair.

"That counter is not for sitting, young man," a older lady says. I look up and it's the woman from five G, hands on her hips, lips pursed.

I jump off the counter. The woman goes to the dryers and very slowly folds her clothes. I meet the other's eyes and he smirks at me, and I try not to laugh. I saunter over to the chair and then sit on table next to it.

He is also staring at his phone. I memorize the lines of his face with my eyes and wonder when I can do it with my hands. He snorts suddenly, and I lean over and look at the display on his phone. He's watching an episode of a drama I've never seen. He smiles at me and offers an earbud. I take it, having to lean closer. He turns the screen.

The man on the show is trying very hard to impress a girl, but he's saying all the wrong things and sliding around in the mud from the hose the girl is holding. She's pretty, but the actor is definitely more my kind of man. I catch myself smiling at his efforts.

"Perversions," the woman mutters.

I glance up sharply, and she's glaring at us, lips pursed even tighter. I know I'm sitting close to the other man, but I hadn't realized how close. I go to move my leg, but he grabs it. He's glaring at her. She glares back and then turns to her laundry.

I turn and meet his eyes, and god, we're awfully close to each other, and was this to prove a point of his own sexuality, or is my gayness so evident that he's only sticking up for me? Either way, I'm grateful. I hate homophobes, even if they are little old ladies. His lips twitch and I realize I'm staring at them, and then imagining what to do to them. Lick them, kiss them, turn them red from biting.

I blush and jerk my upper body away. I can't go far, as the earbud catches. And besides, his hand is still on my thigh. I don't want to go far. I take a deep breath and focus on the screen again.

He pauses it, and then goes to his menu items, flipping past folders until he arrives at one called, "My Thing". He opens it and I gasp, choking as every video in the file is porn. Gay porn. My cock is hard in about three seconds.

He looks down at my lap and smirks. His fingers fly over the screen as he types, "This is what I was watching before you came in."

My eyes widen and I turn to look at him in disbelief. He raises a single eyebrow and then taps the screen. Moaning starts in my ear. I bite my lip against my own moan. His fingers tighten on my leg.

The two men on the screen are fucking like crazy. Men, probably more like boys. Lucky if they were twenty, but god, they're sexy. The bottom has his ankles in his hands, legs spread wide. His ass is taking the top's cock deep every time. And the top is tugging on a chain that's attached to nipple rings and a cock ring.

I actually whimper.

He chuckles. "Yeah, the guy in this drama is such an ass. But I'm addicted to it."

My eyes are blurry as I look at him. I'm pretty sure I'll come as soon as I touch myself. It takes the woman from five G a half hour to fold her clothes. The washer beeps signaling my clothes are done, and the other is up before I am. He's not hard at all and my mouth is open in disbelief. He smirks at me as he transfers my clothes to a dryer. His clothes are done too, so he adds those to the dryer, since the dryers are big enough for two loads.

The woman claims one of the dryers, and then says, "I need that one, too," as Yunho starts putting my whites into the washer.

"You have six of them," he says. "This is our last load." He uses his own quarters to start it.

The woman grunts at him. He takes a few minutes to fold his own clothes, lying them carefully into his basket. He bends over, ass towards me, and the moaning in my ears hits a peak. He walks back to me with a predatory gleam in his eyes. He licks his lips and I do a whole body shiver.

"What did I miss?" he asks as he sits next to me.

I gape at him, because I hadn't been watching the video. He was sexier than the current threesome we were watching. I look at the screen and have to fight not to cream in my pants. The bottom has a cock and a vibrator in his ass and another cock down his throat.

"Um," I start.

"I love this part," he says, and settles closer to me, his arm around my waist. A few more inches to the right and I'd be in his lap.

It takes another ten minutes for the woman to put all the other clothes into the dryer and then start seven more loads.

God, and I thought I was a clothes hoarder.

She spares us one more disgusted glare and then leaves the laundry room.

Fingers grip my chin, turn my head, and then lips and tongue are against my mouth. The moan I'd been holding in the for the last half hour explodes from me. He tugs me toward him and I fall ungraciously into his lap. His cock is rock hard against my leg, and I rub against it with another deep moan.

He flings his head back, and then shoves his hands up my t-shirt, fingers tracing my muscles. I readjust on instinct until I'm straddling his ass, and then rock my hips. His cock pushes against the cleft in my ass. His hands push the front of my sweats down, dive into my boxers. His large hand wraps around my cock, and the impeding orgasm is there, flying through me, teasing with every jerk of his hand.

"Oh, fuck, god!" I shout, hips jerking forward again. I can't stop the orgasm, as much as I want to. It's embarrassing how fast I come, but it's so fucking hot. He cups his other hand around the head of me and I shoot into his hand, curling into his body, lips at his neck, screaming my release into his skin. I'm like a rag doll when he pushes me around, and I go willingly, finding myself on my knees on the chair, head resting along the back of it.

"Any protests?" he asks as he pushes my sweats off my hand.

I shake my head. "Fuck me, god."

I realize suddenly there are still moans in my ear. My eyes find the screen and the bottom is now being doubled up, his wrists tied above his head.

"Oh, god," I gasp and my eyes shut.

Two finger press into me, using my own come as lube.

"No, no, I'm ... just fuck me." I practically ripped myself apart the night before with a vibrator, so I definitely didn't need a lot of prep.

"What a slut," he whispers.

The next thing against my entrance is the head of his cock. He pushes in before I can brace myself against it, and I take him deep, all the way until our bodies are molded. I frown at the feeling of a condom; god, I hate them, but at least he's thinking straight. ... Or curved.

I smile as he starts moving slowly. My eyes are shut tight, mouth open, I'm sure I'm drooling. He slams into me suddenly, pulling a startled cry from my throat.

"God, you're ... fuck." He's panting, like he isn't going to last long either, but it's better to do it fast. Anyone could walk in.

My cock is hard again. I want to stroke myself, but I can't. He's pounding into me too fast. The sounds echo through the room. His body shakes, quivers and then there are lips on my neck, teeth buried in my skin. He cries out, shivering, and then gasps as he fills the condom. His head settles on my back for a moment, and then with a twitch and a deep breath, he pulls out of me, replacing my pants over my ass. I sag into the chair with a moan as my cock rubs against the upholstery.

I manage to open my eyes, watch him walk across the room. He pulls the condom off his gorgeous prick and ties it before tossing it in the trash. My fingers wrap lightly around my erection. He turns and watches me as he moves back to the chair, buttoning up his pants.

"You might want to cover up," he says.

I pout at him and then say, "Cover me up with your mouth."

He smiles.

We both hear the door of the elevator open, and with a sigh, I quickly pull my pants up.

"You're going to have to wash those sweats," he says. "Should I toss them into a washer for another load?"

I catch his implication and grin. "It'd be such a waste to only wash these. If you want, you can come up to my apartment when we're done, and I'll see if my sheets need to be washed."

"And if they don't?"

"Then we'll get them dirty."

He leans down to kiss me, but the patter of footsteps on the tile stops. The old woman is back with another round of clothes. The dryer dings and the man stands up quickly. He empties it, ignoring the old woman's sniffing. I barely stops my laughter. He folds our clothes, leaving mine in a pile on the table, and then he tosses my whites into the dryer. Again paying for it.

"See you upstairs, babe," he says and winks.

I sigh and settle into the chair. He left his iPhone. I put both of the headphones in and curl up in the chair. The boys are still fucking, but I need to calm myself down. I stop it and sift through his files.

I find the man's name in his open email folder. "Jung Yunho," I whisper. Sexy name. Sexy everything. Feeling invasive, but not really caring, I read a few of his emails and learn that he's a model. He has a shoot in two days. I find a file of his shots from magazines and ads. His body is absolutely perfect.

"Kim Jaejoong, you are the luckiest son of a bitch in the world," I mutter to myself.


End file.
